


set my heart aflame

by Rehearsal_Dweller



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Childhood Friends to Lovers, M/M, Modern AU, background/temporary jatherine and ravey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26097145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller
Summary: There’s nothing in the world Davey can do that would really surprise Jack anymore.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly
Comments: 34
Kudos: 129





	set my heart aflame

**Author's Note:**

> This... is my 50th Newsies fic.
> 
> (I know Once We Win isn't done yet, but this is the 50th Newsies fic I'm posting.)
> 
> Eagle-eyed readers might notice that I posted my _first_ Newsies fic in March. I've been writing at an honestly unbelievable rate these last five months, and I just want to thank everybody who's read my work and cheered me on, because you're the reason I've reached this crazy milestone! Thank you so, so much!!

Jack has known Davey Jacobs his whole life, just about. They’re best friends. There’s nobody in the world Jack knows better than he knows Davey, and there’s nobody in the world who knows Jack better than Davey does.

There’s nothing in the world Davey can do that would really surprise Jack anymore.

\--

It was the first day of kindergarten, and Jack was more than a little nervous. He’d gone to pre-k last year at a different school, and what if everybody here was already friends and they hated him and he never made any friends forever?

By snack time that fear had already eased – yeah, a few kids were already friends but he wasn’t having any trouble making his own.

He shared his table with three other boys: Mikey, Spencer, and David. Mikey had a bright, wide smile and told them all excitedly about how his twin brother was in the other class and they’d never been in separate classes before. Spencer had big, thick-lensed glasses which he happily informed them were brand new. David was quiet, with dark hair and light eyes. He told them, much more quietly, that his twin sister was in the other class, too, and they’d never been in separate classes either.

David seemed even more nervous than Jack did that morning, and that just wouldn’t do.

“Hey, Davey, d’you wanna play blocks with me?” Jack asked during choice time, waving the other boy over.

David scrunched his whole face up. “My name’s not _Davey_.”

“It’s a _nickname_ , silly,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “Do you wanna play blocks or what?”

“Yes,” said David. He sat down criss-cross-applesauce next to Jack. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a nickname before.”

“Well, you got one now, _Davey_.”

David smiled at Jack, and Jack realized it was the first time he’d seen the other boy smile all day.

He decided right then and there that he wanted to make David smile every day for the rest of their lives.

\--

When they were in first grade, Davey’s mom had a baby. Jack had a playdate with Davey not too long after the baby was born, and Davey’s mom even let him hold little Les for a little while. Les was small and round-faced, and his eyes were the same shade of blue as Davey’s. He grinned up at Jack with a gummy smile, reaching up with itty-bitty fingers toward Jack’s face.

“He’s so tiny,” Jack said.

“He’s a baby,” Davey replied.

“I bet I wasn’t that tiny when I was a baby,” said Jack.

“Yeah you were!” said Davey. “Everybody is!”

“I dunno about that,” said Jack.

Davey stuck his tongue out at Jack, and Mrs. Jacobs told him off for it. She takes Les out of Jack’s arms again not long after, and then Jack and Davey run up to Davey’s room. They built a blanket fort – one of their current favorite activities – and curled up in it with some picture books to read.

“You excited about bein’ a big brother?” Jack asked.

Davey shrugged. “I dunno. Everybody keeps sayin’ it’s a _big responsibility_. Like I gotta teach him and look out for him and stuff? And that seems overwhelming.”

“You think everything’s overwhelming,” Jack pointed out. It was true; Davey had latched onto the word as soon as he’d learned what it meant, because he found a lot of situations a little too much to handle. Fortunately, Jack was rarely overwhelmed, and Jack was almost always at Davey’s side. And he didn’t plan on that changing any time soon. “I think you’re gonna be a good big brother.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. You’re real smart. You can even tie your shoes all by yourself.”

“I _said_ I’d show you –“

“Exactly! And you can show Les, too.”

“Not yet, though. He doesn’t have any shoes.”

Jack grinned, showing off the gap in his teeth from the one he lost last week. Davey smiled back, a little less blinding but no less happy.

\--

In third grade, a boy named Charlie started in their class. He was new, his family had just moved into the neighborhood.

He used a wheelchair, and his wheels had _lights_ in them. It was so much cooler than Jack’s light-up sneakers. And Jack was determined that somebody that cool needed to be his friend – and, by quiet extension, Davey’s.

“Sit with us at lunch?” he offered.

Charlie agreed with a bright smile.

“Where did you move from?” Davey asked as he picked apart his peanut butter sandwich.

“Buffalo,” Charlie said. “It was a long drive.”

“Wow,” said Jack. “That’s real far, in’nit?”

“Just on the other side of the state,” said Davey. “Western New York is closer than, like, _New Mexico.”_ Jack giggles.

“What’s so funny about New Mexico?” Charlie asked, his eyebrows scrunching together.

“Jack wants to run away and be a cowboy,” Davey told him, poking Jack’s side. “We read a book about Santa Fe over the summer an’ now he’s _obsessed_.”

“Am not!”

“Are _too!”_

Charlie laughed. “You guys are funny.”

“I think you’d be the only one to say that,” Davey said.

“Whaddya mean?”

“The teachers say we’re a _handful_ ,” Jack explained, exchanging a mischievous grin with Davey.

Davey turned back toward Charlie. “And we are. We definitely are.”

\--

By fifth grade, Davey, Jack, and Charlie were a nearly inseparable team, stuck to each other like glue. Davey and Jack had already been that, but now Charlie was attached almost as firmly.

But there were still some days when Jack and Davey would hang out just the two of them, like old times. When Charlie was busy or when Davey was feeling overwhelmed. The two of them would retreat to Davey’s bedroom or the treehouse in Jack’s back yard, and pass hours and hours just playing alone together.

It was a few days after Jack’s eleventh birthday, and he was still very, very excited about the new art supplies his mom gave him. So they were in the treehouse, and Davey was reading and Jack was drawing. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this, and it was far from the last.

“Hey, Davey, can I draw you?” Jack asked.

Davey looked up from his book, scrunching his nose. “Why?”

“’Cause I like your face,” said Jack, because _obviously_.

“Oh,” said Davey. He thought it over for a moment. Jack could tell he was thinking about it, because when Davey thought he always got this little crease between his eyebrows and his gaze would go a little distant. “Yeah, okay.”

Jack smiled at him and flipped the page in his sketchbook, a little tiny flickering birthday candle flame of warmth flaring in his chest for the very first time.

\--

Jack had a _huge_ crush on Katherine Pulitzer. She was the second-oldest in their class, which made her the better part of a year older than Jack. She was also Davey’s twin sister Sarah’s best friend.

Katherine and Sarah weren’t quite as close as Jack and Davey, but the nature of being the best friends of a set of twins (who were, naturally, also best friends with each other) was that the four of them spent an awful lot of time together.

“You should say something to her,” Davey said one evening, while he and Jack were sitting at the Jacobses’ dining room table working on their homework. The girls were sitting in the living room playing Mario Kart extremely competitively, while Les cheered them both on.

Jack had been watching the girls play, his homework forgotten.

Jack shook his head. “I can’t. She’ll laugh at me.”

“Katherine’s nice, she won’t laugh,” said Davey.

“Katherine doesn’t like people wasting her time,” Jack said.

Davey hummed. “You wouldn’t be wasting her time. You’re cool and funny and talented and your face is nice.”

“You think my face is nice?” Jack said, distracted. That little candle flame was back, bigger than before.

Davey shrugged. “Yeah. Uh, all the girls say so when you’re not around. Sarah told me.”

Jack grinned. “Maybe I will say somethin’ to her, then.”

“Please,” said Davey, “and then you two can go out and you can stop telling me and Charlie about her freckles and her shiny hair.”

Jack threw his pencil at Davey.

Davey threw a marker at Jack.

Any attempt at homework was completely abandoned as their conversation devolved into a stationery fight that lasted the better part of an hour.

Jack asked Katherine out the next day. She even said yes.

\--

Jack and Katherine dated in the way middle schoolers date – they held hands at lunch, and went on heavily supervised “dates” to places they’d already have been going with their friends.

Katherine was Jack’s first kiss, as they hung back at the edge of their friend group while they walked from dinner back to school for the middle school musical’s opening night.

They broke up after two months. It was Jack’s first heartbreak, too.

But the nature of thirteen-year-olds is that they’re generally pretty sturdy, and after a few days of crying on Davey and Sarah’s shoulders respectively, they were more or less okay as friends again.

Still, it was a little awkward.

“Jackie,” Davey said one sunny May afternoon, “are you going to Kathy’s end-of-year party?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to,” Davey said. He leaned on Jack a little, finding his hand between them and lacing their fingers together. “I know she still makes you sad, even though you keep saying she doesn’t.”

“Yeah.” Jack squeezed Davey’s hand. “Thanks, Davey.”

For the briefest moment, Davey rested his forehead on Jack’s shoulder. He took a breath like he was going to say something, but released it.

Then he picked his head back up, an easy smile on his face. He didn’t pull his hand away from Jack’s. “Yeah, Jack. Of course.”

\--

Freshman year of high school, they met Anthony. Anthony said his friends at his last school called him Race, because he’s fast as hell.

Race clicked with their group easily. He was always ready to talk about whatever was on somebody’s mind, happy to listen to Charlie talk about architecture or Jack ramble about color or Davey gush about literary devices. And when nobody else had a topic, Race could always find one.

Race had a cloud of white-blond curls, a mischievous smile, and eyes that gave away how smart he always pretended not to be. He and Jack got on like a house on fire.

One Saturday night in November, Jack was sleeping over at Davey’s house. They did that all the time – by now, it was a long standing tradition.

“Hey, Jack?” Davey said softly into the darkness. He sounded almost nervous.

They were lying side-by-side, both staring up at the ceiling.

“Yeah, Davey?” said Jack, just as softly.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“You can always tell me secrets.”

“You gotta promise you won’t hate me.”

“Davey.” Jack rolled onto his side to look at his best friend. Davey was little more than a smudge of shadow in the darkness, but looking at that smudge felt _important_. “I could never, ever hate you.”

Davey took a sharp, shaky breath that sounded distressingly like it might be a sob.

“Davey?” Jack said. “C’mon, Davey-mine, what’s the matter?”

“I’m bisexual,” Davey confessed, just a breath. “I like boys, Jackie.”

 _Oh_.

“Oh,” Jack whispered. “Oh, Davey.” He collected Davey in his arms, pulling him close to his chest.

He swallowed back the urge to say _me, too_ , because he didn’t.

He wasn’t.

Was he?

“It’s okay, Davey,” he said instead. “It’s okay, I gotcha. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I have a crush on Race,” Davey admitted quietly, into Jack’s sleep shirt.

Jack ran his fingers through Davey’s hair, trying to get a handle on the weird feeling at the back of his throat so he could speak again. “Okay. We can work with that.”

For the first time, the warm, candle flame feeling that sometimes flared up in Jack’s chest around Davey didn’t feel comforting or happy.

It felt like being burned.

\--

Davey held his sexuality and his crush on Race close to his chest, not really inclined to let anybody else in on the secret. He admitted later that he’d just needed to tell _somebody_ , that keeping it fully secret had been eating him up on the inside. And that the only person he’d been able to stomach letting in was Jack.

Because he knew, he said, that Jack would love him no matter what. Even though at the point of actually telling him he’d felt like throwing up.

“Of course I’d love you no matter what,” Jack replied. “You’ve been my best friend for ten years. There’s no getting rid of me now.”

Davey laughed. “I love you, too, Jackie.”

That flickering, fluttering warmth was back. It always came up when Davey laughed – Jack took a lot of pride in being one of the only people who could always coax a real, full chest laugh from Davey, after all.

No other reason.

It definitely had nothing to do with the way Davey’s face lit up when he laughed, or the way he always ended with a soft smile just for Jack.

Not at all.

Anyway.

Apparently sometime in early freshman year somebody had tattooed _come out to me! I’ll accept you!_ across Jack’s forehead, because about a month after Davey, Charlie pulled him aside.

“Jack, I think I’m gay,” Charlie told him.

“Cool,” Jack blurted, because he wasn’t sure what else to say.

Charlie laughed, though. “Yeah.”

And then three weeks after that –

“I’m a lesbian,” Katherine said over Sunday brunch. She’d invaded his house, bringing pastries and orange juice, just to have this conversation.

“I feel like I should be offended,” Jack said teasingly, because he knows Kath and _cool_ wouldn’t cut it for her. “Since we dated and all. Was I some weird cover up?”

“I didn’t know I was a lesbian as a seventh grader, Jack,” Katherine replied, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, I don’t know,” said Jack, “you could’a. It’s not like we’re that much older now.”

Katherine threw a croissant at him, but she was grinning.

But the one that really caught him off guard was when Race cornered him after lunch one day in early February.

“Jack, I have the world’s biggest crush on Davey,” he said. “You’re his best friend; you think I got a chance?”

“Sorry, did I miss the part of this year where you told us you’re into guys?” Jack replied, trying to buy himself time to find a way to answer the question. He’d been sworn to secrecy by Davey, after all, but Davey liked Race too. So. How to sidestep without completely shutting Race down?

“Oh, yeah,” Race said, laughing. “I’m into guys. Dunno about girls, really. But like I said, Davey’s –“ He sighed. “Oh, man. He’s somethin’ else. I could listen to him talk about the importance of names in fiction for hours, and those _eyes –“_

“Yeah, I get’cha. He’s a catch.” There was something twisting in Jack’s stomach, completely unrelated to the balancing act he was trying to set up.

He didn’t need to hear Race go on. He knew all about Davey’s eyes.

(fuck.)

“So, you think I gotta chance?”

“I think you better ask Davey that.”

So Race did.

And that afternoon, after school, Davey rushed up to Jack and threw his arms around his neck, babbling excitedly that Race had asked him out, that they had a _date_ on Friday.

“That’s great,” Jack said. He swallows back the tight feeling growing in his throat. “I’m really happy for you.”

( _fuck_.)

\--

Davey and Race dated until summer. Davey never told Jack exactly why they broke up – he just turned up on Jack’s doorstep one day in June with red rimmed eyes and fell into Jack’s waiting arms.

They squished themselves into the treehouse in the back yard. They were really too big for it, now, and they had to sit close together, hunched over their knees, but it felt like old times.

It felt safe, comfortable.

Davey cried until he didn’t have any tears left, and then he just curled up against Jack’s side while Jack sketched. He drew all kinds of things, little details of their friends – Charlie’s beat up sneakers on the footrest of his chair, Katherine’s hand wrapped around Sarah’s wrist as she dragged her down the street, Davey’s soft smile that always followed bouts of laughter.

He didn’t draw clouds of white-blond curls or mischievous grins.

“I feel so dumb,” Davey said quietly. “It’s just a high school romance. Everybody breaks up with their first boyfriend!” He sniffled. “I don’t know why I feel so shit about it.”

“Because he’s your first boyfriend and you really liked him,” Jack said, his tone as gentle as he could manage. “Just because it happens to everyone doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking suck.”

That earned a watery laugh from Davey. “It really does, Jackie.”

“I know,” said Jack. He set his sketchbook down and wrapped his arms around Davey, pressing a soft kiss to his hair. “I know, Davey-mine, I know.”

When they went back to school, Davey and Race gave each other a wide berth. Neither of them stopped hanging out with the group, but Race clung a little closer to Charlie and Davey gravitated closer to Jack and that was that.

As sophomore year went on, they got more comfortable around each other again but it was never quite the same.

\--

Jack is pretty sure he was a senior in high school the first time it really hit him.

It was one of those days that blurred into a thousand others like it – the two of them sprawled on the floor of Davey’s bedroom while Jack drew and Davey read, not always really talking but enjoying each other’s presence anyway.

They would’ve been seventeenish – a side effect of both having birthdays late in the year – which meant they’d known each other something like twelve years.

Davey was talking about the book he was reading or college applications or his math homework and Jack looked up from his sketch and the light was just so and Davey gave him that little smile he sometimes did, the one he always seemed to save just for Jack, and Jack smiled back, the little flame in his chest now a fucking campfire, because oh, God, Davey was beautiful.

(Because _oh,_ Jack was in love with Davey.)

He dropped his pencil.

“Jackie?” Davey asked, because Davey didn’t miss a beat. “Are you alright?”

“What?” said Jack, his voice going all high and choked. He cleared his throat, willing himself to sound normal when he spoke again. “Yeah. Yeah, Davey, I’m fine. I just, uh, thought I saw a spider.”

Davey glanced at the wall behind him. “Well if you see it again, lemme know.” He gave Jack a small, teasing smile. “You know I’ll protect you.”

“Yeah, Davey, I know,” said Jack. He picked his pencil back up, turning his eyes back to his sketchbook.

He’d been drawing Davey. That was nothing new – this sketchbook was full of Davey after Davey after Davey, because Davey was always _right there_ for the sketching. Because Davey’s features made Jack’s fingers itch for a pencil. Because Davey was Jack’s favorite person on the planet, and naturally that meant Jack had drawn him once or twice or a hundred thousand times.

He shut his sketchbook.

“Jack?”

“Davey, I’m bi.”

“Oh, I – okay,” Davey said, clearly a little startled. Not by the confession, but by its apparent randomness. “Okay. Cool. Welcome to the club.”

Jack laughed. “Thanks.”

“I’d wondered, you know,” said Davey. He leaned back against the side of his bed, setting his book aside. “You’ve got too many queer friends to be straight.”

“We were all friends before anybody came out,” Jack pointed out. He mirrored Davey’s position, looking up at the ceiling and very aware of the eighteen inches or so between them.

“We flocked together subconsciously.”

“As five-year-olds?”

Davey laughed. “Oh, yeah. Your itty bitty gay heart called to mine and now we’ve been best friends for over a decade.”

The other confession is on the tip of his tongue, but –

He can’t. He _can’t._

“Yeah,” Jack said instead, rolling his eyes. “Sure.”

\--

Jack and Davey went to different schools for college, and it felt weird through Jack’s whole freshman year not to be able to turn to his left and see Davey _right there_ whenever he wanted. They talked all the time, still, though.

Their schools were a few hours apart, close enough that every few weekends Jack could drive up to Davey and they could spend two days pretending they still lived in each other’s pockets.

Jack was waiting, waiting, waiting for Davey to get fed up with him – for Davey to change his mind and decide he didn’t want Jack invading his space, that he’d moved onto bigger and better things. Davey was going to be a famous writer one of these days, and he didn’t need some nobody set designer hanging around him all the time.

A few weeks after winter break, Jack was sitting next to Davey on the bed in his dorm on a Saturday afternoon and Davey, who’d been half dozing with his head on Jack’s shoulder, sat straight up suddenly.

“Jackie,” Davey said. _Here it comes._

“Yeah, Dave?” replied Jack, bracing himself.

“I can’t believe I forgot to bring this up when you first got here,” said Davey. He launched himself off of the bed, diving for his desk where he starts shuffling papers around.

_Here it comes._

“What’s up, Davey-mine?” Jack said, trying to play it casual.

Davey crawls back onto the bed, shoving a notebook into Jack’s hands. “I want to write a book with you.”

 _Oh._ Not what Jack was expecting, not at all.

“You’re the writer, Davey,” Jack said. He didn’t even glance down at the notebook yet. “I don’t see how I could help.”

Davey tapped the notebook in Jack’s hands. “A children’s book, Jackie. I want to write a children’s book, and I want you to illustrate it. You’re the most incredible artist, and –“

“Davey,” Jack cut in, “really?”

“Really, Jack,” said Davey. He tapped the notebook again. “I had a concept idea the other day, it felt like getting struck by fucking lighting. I was late to class because I had to write it down right then.”

Jack laughed. “Of course you did.”

“But I can’t do it by myself,” Davey said. He looked Jack right in the eye, totally serious.

That old, familiar flame flares right back up, warming Jack to his fingertips.

“I don’t know, Davey,” said Jack, not because he doesn’t think Davey could write an amazing children’s story but because – “I’m not sure I’d be good enough for that.”

“I know that you are,” said Davey. His hand closed around Jack’s, which was still holding the notebook. “You’re so damned talented, Jackie-mine. I know you don’t always think so, but I do. You trust my judgment, right?”

“You know I do.”

“Then trust me on this.”

\--

Jack hadn’t realized it was _possible_ for him and Davey to talk more often than they had before, but it was and they did.

Suddenly concept sketches and character designs and storyboards and color palettes were woven into every free moment Jack had, because he’d thrown every bit of effort he had into this project. Between homework assignments and shows and hanging out with college friends – oddly including Spencer, from their kindergarten table, now six-foot-five and going by Specs – Jack was constantly texting Davey with new ideas, new sketches, new story beats.

Of course, they didn’t only talk business. This was Davey – Jack told him everything.

(Everything except one very, very important thing.)

“Who’re you texting?” Specs asked one night, when their college friend group was sitting in a common room playing board games. “You keep smiling at your phone. Got some girlfriend you haven’t told us about?”

“Ooh,” their other friend, Romeo, chimed in. “ _Do_ you?”

“Just Davey,” Jack said, shaking his head. “It’s just Davey. Specs, you remember Davey, don’cha?”

“’Course I do, you two were like magnets,” Specs said, shaking his head. “Always stuck together. You gotta boyfriend, then, Jack?”

Jack bit down hard on his lip, looking down at his phone again as another text came in.

_That’s perfect, Jackie! You’re incredible, I don’t know what I’d do without you. <3_

He could feel his cheeks heating up as he glanced back up at his friends. “No. Davey’s just a friend.”

Specs hummed, unconvinced. The conversation moved on.

\--

The book was the biggest artistic undertaking Jack had ever taken on, but by the end of their senior year of college it was just about finished. Every single page had been a collaborative effort between him and Davey, and they were both damned proud of it.

Through the whole process of working on it, though, that little flame in Jack’s chest kept growing. There was no avoiding it anymore – he was head over heels in love with Davey Jacobs, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He loved Davey’s passion and his dedication and the little crease he got between his eyebrows when he frowned and that soft smile he only ever seemed to give to Jack.

He loved that Davey believed in him, a hell of a lot more than he believed in himself. He loved that Davey _trusted_ him to put his vision to paper. Trusted him to collaborate on this project, his _baby_.

They were planning to move in together after graduation. It seemed like a long time coming, really. They’d been best friends for so long, and then having spent their college years working so closely on this book together – it was only natural.

Which was how Jack ended up standing in the living room they shared on the day they moved in, watching Davey hang one of _his_ paintings over the couch.

“You really don’t have to, Davey,” Jack said for what felt like the hundredth time.

“I do, because this is my apartment too and this is my favorite piece of decoration I own,” Davey replied.

“Is it really –“

“Of course it is.” Davey said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe, to Davey, it was. “You made it for me, so it has sentimental value. But also, it’s gorgeous.”

That warmth was always there, nowadays, but just now it was accompanied by a fluttering, butterflies feeling that had _those words_ bubbling up in Jack’s throat.

But he couldn’t say those words, not like that, because that would ruin everything.

Instead he said, “Thank you, Davey.”

And Davey turned and gave him that beautiful, soft smile over his shoulder. “Always, Jackie-mine.”

\--

Almost more remarkable than finishing the book was that they got the book published and the book took off.

People kept asking Davey to make Appearances, to do readings, and he refused unless they could appear together.

“Jack is my partner,” he’d say. “He contributed almost as much to the story as I did. If you want me you want both of us.”

And that was that.

Jack didn’t really do much talking at these functions, but he sat next to Davey in front of whoever’d assembled to see them, and when they did readings he did some of the voices. His favorites were events where there were actual kids, because they wrote a kids’ book for God’s sake.

He and Davey sat side-by-side on beanbags in front of about thirty kids, their parents standing around the edge of the group leaning against the shelves.

“Does anyone have any questions for Mr. Jacobs or Mr. Kelly?” the moderator from the bookstore asked.

A little girl in the front row raised her hand. “The pictures are real pretty.”

When she didn’t continue, Davey elbowed Jack. “That’s all Jack. He’s been practicing his art for a long, long time.”

“Thanks, bud,” Jack chimed in. “David and I worked really hard on making sure it all looked nice.”

Another kid, a few rows back, raised their hand. “Are you guys married?”

“No,” Jack and Davey said in unison, not meeting each other’s eye.

“But we’re best friends,” Jack added, “we have been since we were the same age as some of you.”

Davey grinned. “So choose your friends wisely, kiddos, because you never know who you’re going to grow up to write a book with.”

That night, they collapsed onto their couch in a fit of giggles.

“Are you guys _married_?” Jack repeated, in his best imitation of the voice of a five-year-old.

Davey was laughing so hard he was having trouble catching his breath. “Did you see his _mom_? I thought she was going to dive in and apologize, she looked completely mortified.”

“I was too distracted by the bookstore lady, I think she was really regretting letting the kids talk,” Jack said.

“Might as well be married to you,” Davey said, shaking his head. He shifted his weight so he rested against Jack’s side. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve dated since we started this thing.”

“Hey, it isn’t my fault you don’t have a social life.”

“I’m saying you _are_ my social life.”

“Is that so bad?”

Davey hummed, smiling up at Jack. It brings back that warm flutter Jack knows so well. “No, it isn’t. Not at all.”

\--

Jack is twenty-five. He’s known Davey for twenty years now. They live together, they’re working on their second children’s book together.

There is no one in the world who Jack knows better than Davey.

There is no one in this world who knows Jack better than Davey does.

There’s nothing in the world Davey can do that would really surprise Jack anymore. He’s sure of it.

“Are you making pancakes?” Davey asks, coming into the kitchen. He pauses to look at the latest set of storyboards for the new book – which are pinned to the refrigerator by a magnet shaped like a character from the last one – then moves to Jack’s side, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“I am,” Jack says, now more than used to the warm feeling that flares in his chest at Davey’s touch.

“You’re my favorite person in the world,” Davey says. “I’ll start coffee.”

Jack laughs. “I knew it! All this time, and you’ve just kept me around for my pancakes.”

“Sure,” says Davey. “Your pancakes, your art skills, your shortness that makes it easier for you to see into the lower cabinets – you’re a useful guy, Jackie.”

“ _Using me_ –“

“Oh,” Davey adds as an afterthought, “and I love you. That might be a factor, too.”

Jack has been facing the stove this whole time, but he turns slowly to face Davey. The two of them have never been the kind of friends to shy away from casual _I love you_ s, but something about this doesn’t feel casual.

Something in Davey’s voice catches Jack’s ear.

So he _has_ to turn to look at him, really, because he has to see in Davey’s face whether that odd sincerity was all in Jack’s head.

Davey is leaning on the counter, his weight on his hands which are resting on either side of him. He’s chewing the inside of his lip, which is subtle but noticeable to Jack who knows Davey’s face better than he knows his own.

“Davey?”

“Jack, I – I love you.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

“I’m sorry,” Davey says, “I don’t want – I don’t want to make things weird, I just – I was looking at you and it just hit me all over again and –“

“Davey,” Jack says softly.

“Jackie,” Davey replies.

This is not happening.

Jack knows Davey, Jack knows Davey better than he knows himself. He knows that Davey gets overwhelmed easily, knows he scrunches his face up when he’s frustrated and when he’s annoyed and when he thinks Jack needs telling off. He knows the way Davey looks when he’s tired, the way he looks when he’s happy, the way he looks when something’s gone his way. He knows Davey’s mischievous smile, knows the smile he gives his siblings when he’s feeling especially fond of them, knows the smile he saves just for Jack. He _knows_ Davey. He loves him.

There’s no way Davey could love _Jack_ and Jack wouldn’t know.

_Is there?_

“Please don’t be sorry,” Jack says, a little ragged. “Because that means you wanna take it back.”

“Do you not want me to take it back?”

“No.”

“Then I love you,” Davey repeats. “I’ve been in love with you for – for a long time. Since we were kids, really.”

Jack opens and closes his mouth a few times, and then realizes that he’s burning breakfast.

So much for Davey not being able to surprise him.

He rescues the pancakes, then turns the stove off and turns back toward Davey.

“Race and I broke up over it,” Davey admits, not quite meeting Jack’s eye. “He said he could tell I liked you better than him, and I – I _did_. I felt so guilty about it for so long. I’ve almost told you a hundred times, but I could never get the words out.” He looks up, those gorgeous blue eyes finally locking onto Jack’s. “Every time some little kid asks if you’re my husband, saying no kills me a little. Jack, I _love you_.”

Jack is almost sure his heart has stopped. That vague, candlelight warmth has flared up into fireworks. “I love you, too, Davey.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do,” says Jack, because honestly. _Honestly_. “Forever. Even before I knew I liked guys, I knew I liked _you_.”

“Jack –“

“Davey. _Davey-mine_ ,” Jack says. “I’ve always called you that, haven’t I? Even when you weren’t. Mine, I mean.”

“I’ve always been yours,” says Davey. He laughs, just softly, ending on that small smile he always saves for Jack. “We really are a pair, aren’t we?”

“Could’a been together for ages,” says Jack. “Hey, Davey?”

“Yeah, Jackie-mine?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Jack takes a step forward, pressing his lips to Davey’s. It’s nothing special – just a casual, normal kiss – except that it’s _Jack_ kissing _Davey_ and that’s world-stopping. Somehow it feels both like the most incredible moment in the world and like coming home, like something Jack has done a thousand times.

It’s sweet and domestic and unbelievably _them,_ and the little flame in Jack’s chest has become a wildfire that’s never going away.


End file.
